There's nowhere for you to run, There's nowhere for you to hide
by Meganelixabethh
Summary: Effie gets taken to the arena for the post mockingjay Capitol hunger games. Massive spoilers for mockingjay. Hayffie eventually, rated T for violence and sexual reference
1. Chapter 1

**I felt like there needed to be a story in which Effie is taken to an arena. I hope you like it. Every chapter will be from a different point of view, this one is from Katniss's but make sure you know who's POV the chapter is from before reading it just to make sure nobody gets confused**

**Unfortunately I don't own the hunger games**

**And on with the story…**

Katniss POV

The steaming mug of tea sits in my hands, gently radiating warmth into my body, banishing the last tendrils of sleep. A large yawn escapes my mouth as I run my hand through my bed messed hair, pulling it straight back away from my face and letting it fall into a middle part naturally. I'd seen Prim perform this action a million times, a sign of concentration, she would pull her hair back while doing her homework, or when my mother would pull her into her world of healing. Now I do it, as a way of keeping her alive in even just a small way. Even for just a little while. As my mind begins to draw itself into the same self-torturing black hole that it falls into every day I am distracted by the soft swish of the luxury train door sliding open to reveal Peeta, closely followed by Haymitch. Peeta grabs my hand, pulling me up

"Come on, get dressed" he commands "We'll be arriving in a minute"

I follow his demands without question, he's correct, the train will be speeding into the capitol any second and I can hardly wander around in a dressing gown with a mug of tea clutched between my fingers. Even though people are free to wander from district to district now the capitol, even though less wealthy than it was, is still the richest place in Panem and people still wear the ridiculous clothes I was accustomed to. Frighteningly in some ways nothing has really changed at all. I slip into my clothes and plait my hair back into my usual style, my practiced fingers making light work of the task, pulling strands of my hair back neatly until it is all encased in the same soft plait that I wore in my games.

My mind is preoccupied as I am leaving the train, thinking back to the moment when I allowed this to happen, I deeply regret it now. Gale had managed to convince me I had wanted this, blinded by grief for Prim I had allowed things to pass me by which would have never been allowed before her death or even now. I had been thirsty for the blood of the people whom had killed my sister, if even indirectly but now I see that by doing this we are just as bad as they are. We can't blame these people for the way they were brought up, we can't blame Snow's 14 year old granddaughter for the decisions of her predecessors, we can't blame any of the people who were involved in the games after being so brainwashed by the Snow they thought this was acceptable. I don't want this. I don't want any more blood. Unfortunately it's beyond my control now. The arena's been set up, Gale is ready for the reaping, and all the people would be standing in the glorified animal pens waiting for Gale to pick twelve names from each reaping ball. This should definitely not be happening but I allowed it and now there's nothing that I can do.

We sit silent as a dead sea on the plush couches in the training centre; the only place any of us from district 12 have claim to in this city. The 12th floor pent house that Effie had showed us around, so excited at the obvious awe we were displaying. It's strange to think that was only a few short years ago. Now she stands and we see her on the large television screen. Wearing her wig and all her makeup, her body encased in a somewhat pretty butterfly inspired dress. I realise with a jolt it's the same dress that she wore for the reaping of the Quarter Quell. This is a direct defiance of something; I'm not quite sure what now there is no Capitol or oppressive, totalitarian tyrant to blame anything on but she is being defiant anyway and I can't help but smile. We taught her that. I can tell this is bothering Haymitch, he may have hated her guts most of the time as far as we could see but after so many years he does care for her, he doesn't wish any ill will or injury upon her. If I'm being totally honest I think it's hard on all of us, we all love Effie in our own special little way; I should have been able to save her from this, one of us should.

Gale reaches down into the first reaping ball for the male tributes, pulling twelve names and reading them allowed, waiting for each tribute to make their way to the stage, past rebels making sure nobody could run. This is wrong.

"Tigris Blantorial" No. he hadn't been involved for years. This isn't fair

"Claudius Templesmith" No. He's not to blame. This isn't fair.

"Tax Cuddbory" No. he's just a trainer. He's a good archer, just like me. This isn't fair.

I tune out after him, name after name is called out including Snow's granddaughter, named Annabella and just a pale faced waif next to the rest of the tributes. She's just a child, just like we were. We can't let this happen. I am drawn back to reality by Gale reading out the name of the last female tribute

"Euphemia Trinket" no. no. no. this isn't fair. She should be immune. I said she should be immune. No. no. no. not Effie. Not dear, naïve Effie. No.

Everyone goes silent. Haymitch immediately gets up and leaves but me an Peeta are frozen on the spot, watching her take a long shaky breathe and making her way onto the stage, eyes wide, chin up, smile on I note with some kind of perverse happiness. She's not forgetting her manners and appearance, Effie is nothing if not true to herself. The last we see of her is when she is lead away from the stage and towards the cars that will bring them here. All we can do now is wait.

I allowed her to get reaped. Guilt overwhelms me. Effie is going into the arena.

**Read and review! I hope you liked it, the next instalment should be up soon **

**MeganElixabethh xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**So this is the second instalment in there's nowhere for you to run, there's nowhere for you to hide. I hope you all liked the last one, I'm eternally grateful to all the reviewers, subbers and favourites that I got, you mean the world to me :D**

**This chapter will be where the Hayffie start, BRACE YOURSELVES!**

**And on with the story…**

Effie POV

I stand there, static as a statue, my mind sending fingers of numb ness and unfeeling through my veins. I don't feel it when the soldiers grip my arm a little too hard or shove me a little too vigorously. I let their words wash over me when they tell us to sort ourselves into twelve groups; people branch off in twos and threes, fighting to go to floors one, two and four; thinking they would suddenly inherit the skills of the career tributes if they go and live in their apartments. The number 12 is pressed without hesitation when I step into the elevator, like I was ever going to go anywhere other than our penthouse. A deep breath rasps through my teeth, contemplating what I'll say to Katniss, Peeta… Haymitch, I grip the door handle firmly, bracing myself; with a sharp flash of determination I push it down, bolting into the lobby/living space. Unfortunately my courage doesn't last long; Katniss and Peeta are standing by the sofas, invariably waiting to greet me, Haymitch is nowhere to be seen. The sudden blaze of nerve has deserted me with the poorly concealed pity on both those children's faces.

I stalk past them into my room without a word, locking the door behind me.

I can't deal with this. I step out of my heels, leaving them forlorn and alone on the luxurious carpet, isolated from each other and from me. My back slides down the wall and I hear a great gasping sobbing sound echo around the room. It's me. I'm crying. Flashes from past games bolt through my unprepared mind and I can feel myself slipping. Help me. Help me. Help me.

A shard of sunlight bouncing off the blade of a sword as it swoops down to meet its final target. An axe finding purchase in my flesh. Arrows swooping through the air. A hand reaching to snap my neck. Please help me. Mutts tear me limb from limb. Please, please help me. Relentless footfalls perusing me through an unfamiliar territory. Get me out. A scream slips unheeded from my mouth and I reach for anything my hands can grab hold of that can break and hurl it towards the nearest wall. Manners. Its bad manners to throw things. I don't care. Purple glass litters the floor glinting menacingly at me, just like the metal weapons that have killed so many of my tributes in the past. Parachutes float down from the sky, exploding on impact, ripping me to shreds. I'm still screaming but the desperate, animalistic sound is choking off into a guttural sobbing sound.

"Effie?" it's Katniss coming to try and make me come out but I won't. I shan't.

They come to try and coax me out but I ignore them, pulling back the numbness that had encased me earlier. Sitting in the corner, totally static and unmoving, arms wrapped around my legs, tears trickling down my face, pouring steadily from my unblinking eyes. My stomach growls loudly, alerting me to the passage of time and my eyes dart to the window for a second. Judging by the light, or lack of it, I've been in here for a while. Its dark out and it was noon when I came in here.

"Princess, come on. Open the door" Haymitch commanded; it was the first time he'd been here. Katniss and Peeta had been about ten times each, I had counted every attempt to comfort me but Haymitch's voice had never tried to reach me. I can't ignore him; I could block out Katniss and Peeta but Haymitch and I have known each other far too long. I stand shakily, my legs stiff and unmoving and unlock the door. He must hear the click of the lock because he's through the door in a second, closing it softly behind himself.

"Effie? What happened?" He asked suddenly, reaching forward and capturing my hand, I'm confused for a second; my palms are covered in dried, congealed blood and gashes. How did that happen? I look back to my corner curiously and see the floor is scattered with the now blood stained purple glass of the vase I had thrown. I'm also shocked to see pieces of paper with hasty scribbled drawings of weapons and interesting ways you could kill people. It's always other people with blank faces killing a cowering woman with curly hair and high heels. I stop looking too closely. Haymitch spins me around after he sees my pain filled cocoon and sighs, I expect I have the same small gashes littering my legs and by the slowly returning pain throbbing in the soles of my feel I expect there are more there as well. He keeps me with my back to him and unzips my dress, letting it fall to the floor.

He fetches a warm damp cloth and gently washes the blood from the back of my legs and the palms of my hands, he suspects that my feet have been affected so lifts my legs from the ankle like I'm a horse and washes them too, pulling bits of glass from some of the wounds.

Neither of us has spoken. It unnerves me.

He pulls my wig from my head and washes the cloth to wipe all that is left of my make-up from my face and leaves me stood there, dressed only in my underwear, my face as fresh as the morning, my wig discarded. Lay completely bare.

My hands and feet were throbbing but I felt so broken and alone, my breath rasped through my teeth, I could feel the tears coming again, more sobbing. I throw my arms around his neck

"Help me" I gasp out, the first words I've spoken to him since I unlocked the door, the first intelligible words I've spoken since the reaping. His arms warp around my waist and stroke my hair softly as I cling to him, my head buried in his chest sobbing my heart out. I never even had the chance to tell him how I felt. I need my life back.

"Come on princess, you need to eat something" he commands but I shake my head, my stomach is so tied in knots I can't imagine putting anything inside it right now and thankfully he doesn't question me so he merely goes to my cabinets and pulls out my short night gown and gives it to me. I put it on, but if he expects me to go to sleep he has another thing coming. If I had so many nightmarish images haunted my waking hours I didn't want to know what would happen once I had no control over my torturous mind. I'm not moving and I think Haymitch can see that so he comes over and carries me to the bed, I struggle but only feebly. I would never be able to overpower Haymitch.

"Don't leave me" I beg in a whisper as he lays be down beneath the thick comforter. I expect him to scoff at me and depart; leaving me to the nightmares that would no doubt haunt me. But he doesn't. Instead he removes his clothes and slides into bed next to me, pulling me against his torso and whispering comforting words until I fall into a restless slumber.

**Praise is to the Hayffie! Hope you liked it, please read and review, see y'all soon :D**


	3. Chapter 3

I'm so so so sorry guys! I've been in two different theatrical productions (snow white and little shop of horrors in case you're wondering) on the past two weeks and I just wrote this really quickly on my IPod in the interval an when I was off stage to keep you all going because I got loads of story followers and favourites and reviews and I'd feel really bad if I made you wait until after closing night on Sunday so have some sweet Hayffie goodness, thank you for all your support an I hope you enjoy!

I rouse us both three times throughout the night, screaming and thrashing, desperately trying to escape my dreams and every time he is there; holding me while I cry, whispering into my hair that its all okay, it's all a dream. Every time he kisses the crown of my head and strokes my hair until I am pulled back into a restless slumber. When I finally awake from my own free will I find my head resting on his chest and his arms wrapped around me protectively, I yawn and stretch like a cat, checking the glowing red numbers beside me. 2:04 AM. Reluctant to go back to sleep I slide from the bed, expecting to be met by the cool air conditioning and am surprised when goose pimples don't immediately rush over my arms and legs. Someone must have turned the heating up...

The cuts have scabbed over helpfully, leaving my skin tightened and unforgiving but unbroken. I go over to the corner where I had sat last night and, grabbing a piece of newspaper from the desk enroute, begin to clear away the lilac glass of last night. For my troubles I acquire a few extra pricks on the very tips of my fingers but I manage to dispose of it without inflicted any more serious injuries on myself. Wrapping the newspaper up carefully I leave it just outside the door for the lone avox I allow to tend to my room, I don't want her in here too early, I don't want her to see how much pain I'm in.

My feet are beginning to throb painfully so I sit down on the ground to look at the pictures my troubled mind conjured up without my permission. I can feel my legs cramping up sorely, they're telling me off for sitting curled up and static for what must have been about ten hours; I stretch them out as far as I can pulling them into a near full box split, leaning forewords and leaning on my elbows to look at the hastily scribbled biro drawings I did last night. All disturbingly violent, the smears of blood from my injured hands not helping to make them look any more friendly. Blank faceless people with an imaginative array of deadly looking weapons, all towering, all tall an muscular, even the girls, killing a cowering skinny woman with curly hair wearing heels in increasingly disturbing ways. A hysterical bubble of laughter escapes my mouth which is anything but joyful when I think that maybe I need psychiatric help and realise I definitely won't be alive to get it. Tiredness washes over me again and I let myself lean all the way down and rest my head on the floor, feeling my leg and back muscles stretch pleasantly.

"You know you're the one that asked me to stay princess, is it that bad sleeping in the same bed as me?" Haymitch questioned, full of humour and pulling me from the surprisingly restful sleep. I sit up, now in full box splits, I obviously stretched further in the night. My arms go foreword to lift me a little and support me as I bring my legs around the back of me and fold them beneath me with a yawn  
"I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to wake you again" I replied tiredly and stood, only hesitating for a second before I pulled my night dress over my head, he'd seen me in my underwear last night and him cleaning my cuts had been far more intimate than walking past him to go to the ensuite bathroom for a shower.  
"Hold up a second" he commanded and pressed a few buttons on the control panel, a small silver pot materialising a few seconds later, he picked it up and removed the lid. I recognised its contents immediately; the same medicine we had sent Katniss in the 74th games, it would heal my cuts in a few minutes. He turns me around and his hands are warm and sure as he wipes the cream medicine over the back of my legs, the turns me around softly, his eyes capturing mine and for a second its like the entire world has stopped just for us, I suddenly have the urge to kiss him and why the hell not? it's not like he's going to miss me and I'm going to die soon, why shouldn't i allow myself this one last indulgence? i stand on tip toes, ignoring the sharp pain of my skin ripping back open on the soles of my feet and press my lips to his forcefully. All I can think is the word please. Please let me have this. Please let me kiss you just once before I die. To my complete and utter surprise his hand wraps around the skin on my bare waist and pulls me closer, his lips moving gently against mine. The kiss is gentle and sweet enough to make my throat ache with tears. When he pulls away he lifts my hands towards him and smeared the cream all over the cuts, it sapped away the slight stinging soreness immediately and I could already see the redness draining away. He does the same with my feet except this time I'm not so out of it I can lift them of my own free will. He looks me up and down an I feel my blood warm in my veins  
"Anything I put in front of you gets eaten okay trinket?" He states "you're gonna need staying power where you're going"  
"Okay... I erm, I need to shower" I reply and disappear into the bathroom, suddenly feeling a little self conscious standing there in just my bra and pants. I look at myself in the full length mirror and notice what he means. There is a gap between my thighs, small but still definitely there and my arms are delicate, like a sparrows wings, you can almost see my ribs. I am very thin; I guess I always prided myself on it but he's right, I need staying power.

The warm water soothes my body and wakes me up all in the same heart beat and as much as I want to stay standing there for hours I know I can't so I press the buttons in the shower that gives a short routine, shampoo and conditioner and body wash and simply blows me dry with a great gust of wind which dries my hair with no knots at the same time. That's quite a feat with my curls. When I get out the shower there is underwear and my clothes sitting there, with a warming in my heart I realise Haymitch must have either put them there or told an avox to do it for him. It's strange, lots of the Avoxs have decided to stay working as speechless waiters, they were all compensated heavily by the Capitol for what happened and their job is well paid and they still wear their uniforms. Frighteningly, in some ways, nothing has really changed at all. Inspecting the clothes I am pleasantly surprised. Capitol fashion does grate on me sometimes, obviously I could never resent the soft, beautiful fabrics in dazzling colours and styles that could boggle the mind but they are uncomfortable and impractical and the thought of training in even one of the dresses I own makes me want to be sick before I even start. I pull on the pair of black leggings, a skin tight, long red t-shirt made of cotton and a pair of black converse. I don't want to see anyone yet so I waterfall plait my strawberry blonde hair away from my face either side of my middle parting, dabbing a little foundation on my face and mascara on my eyelashes and I brace myself for breakfast. I'm a little late and as much as I act during my time in district 12 as the ditzy Capitol escort manners are actually engrained on my DNA so I can feel my etiquette pulling me out towards the dining hall.

When I go back into the bedroom Haymitch is sat on the edge of my bed  
"You were late" he says as his explanation and it works, I'm never late anywhere. I must look terrified so he pulls me into his soft embrace "you look so much better like this" he says, obviously referring to the lack of make up and extravagant clothes or wig. I think i maybe look more like a woman from 12 now without my capitol facade; maybe in a different life we could've been together. I pull away and we carry on clinging to each others forearms, he's staring at me and I him, like we never want to forget how the other looks in this moment. He leans down to me and softly kisses me again and my stomach does this strange flip flop squeeze that I've never felt before and my heart constricts in my chest. My arms circle around his neck, needing to be so much closer. Please. Please let me come out of this alive just so I can have Haymitch. Please. Just as the kiss is cooling down and regressing back to the same throat aching sweetness as before the door bursts open and Katniss strides in

"Look Effie, I know you're upset but-" she cuts off when she sees what's happening and we break away from each other so fast but Katniss has already stammered something unintelligible with the word breakfast in there somewhere.

"I'm glad we've managed to disturb the kid this late in the game" he jokes with a smile "come on" he says, caressing my cheek with a gentleness I wouldn't have known he possessed a few days ago. I dredge up a watery smile and squeeze his hand as we walk through my bedroom door. I can do this.

I am Effie Trinket. Escort of district 12. I was taken, imprisoned and tortured by the Capitol. I have been kept apart from the man that I love for years because of an evil tyrant and now it is time for me to show I was worth it when they saved me.

I am Effie trinket and I will be the 76th and final victor of the annual Hunger Games.

Hope you liked it! Please read and review!


	4. Chapter 4

I've actually been getting more chapters done now I've started to do them on my iPod so I hope to get the groundwork on this story done pretty quick. I hope you enjoy and once again thanks for all the reviews and followers and favourites I got :D

Effie POV (again)

"It's breakfast" I state simply as Haymitch places a huge plate of lamb stew and rice in front of me "can't I have fruit salad or something?" I try and persuade him, I should never have agreed to this eating thing, he's driving me mad already. To my surprise he makes up a heaping plate of fruit salad and for a second I think I've gotten away with it but just as I've managed to convince myself that he's reasonable and not that stubborn he places it right next to the stew and says "you can have that too" and my blood should boil, really it should, but he says it with that cheeky grin that melts my heart. Damn his kissable lips. Just as I've shot him a flirty yet exasperated look and began to fork the food into my mouth the door to the other tributes bedroom opens and I immediately recognise the girl that steps out. Annabella Snow.

What immediately strikes me is that she is breathtakingly beautiful in every sense of the word. You wouldn't think that she's only 14, she looks at least 3 years older that she actually is. Almost luminous pale blue eyes sit on her perfectly proportioned face, wide and all seeing, her skin is as smooth, clear and pale as that of a china doll. Her Cupid's bow lips are opened a little and she is exceptionally tall yet extremely slight, possibly thinner than me and dressed in Capitol wear she would be at home on any runway but here, in the training centre, dressed in similar, simple attire she looks like she could snap at any second. My heart squeezes in my chest. Too young. Far too young. She had left her long white blonde hair down and perfectly straight but seeing me with even just the front part of my hair waterfall plaited away from my face she seems to realise what we're doing and pulls it into a hasty ponytail as she sits down.

"Hungry kid?" Haymitch asks. Having obviously noticed her very low weight and when she shakes her head Katniss cuts in, knowing what's coming

"It wasn't a question" she replies, passing her a plate of lamb and rice and a bowl of fruit just like my own heaving portion. She looks about as impressed as I do but our eyes meet for a millisecond and she seems to say to me 'I will if you do'. Maybe she's not so bad after all.

"So. Any special skills?" Haymitch asks as soon as we tuck into our plates and I let Annabella answer first, it's not like I have any. "I guess I'm kind of fast, I win some of the races at school" she says quietly; her voice is a perfect bell like soprano and I can't say I'm surprised. "I do the long distance runs mostly but I won the 100m sprint for the past two years" she elaborates "I'm on the swim team and baseball too but I'm not really much good at those, I think I'm just there because they need a body on the pitch or in the pool to make a full team"

Haymitch nods thoughtfully, he got good with her, she might win this with those skills, not many people will have offensive skills apart from Tax so running and hiding might just be her best bet out of that place. Haymitch turns to me next and raises an eyebrow, prompting me to speak. I know if I say I don't have any he'll tell me off and give up on me so I decide to reel off all the things I used to do as a kid no matter how useless they are and hope for the best.  
"I did dance and gymnastics for a bit when I was a kid but I don't see that it will be much help" I say, scooping the last forkful of the stew and rice into my mouth. My stomach is stretched uncomfortably tight but I pick up a different fork and get started on the fruit salad anyway, I get the distinct feeling that if i don't finish neither will Annabella so I shove a chunk of pineapple into my mouth all the same, the sweet juice bursting over my tastebuds  
"And how long was 'a bit' for exactly sweetheart?" He asks in that same old exasperated tone, like he can't fathom a single reason that justifies talking to me right now. I have to think of his lips on mine, his hands pulling me hungrily closer to him to remember that he actually likes me. I tot up the numbers hastily and am disturbed to find how high they are he's going to berate me for wasting so much of my life on a useless discipline and ask me why I didn't run or swim or play baseball even though I couldn't imagine Annabella's slight body being of much use in any sport.  
"13 years of dance and 10 years of gymnastics" I mumble with my head down, shoving grapes into my mouth with a spoon. I prepared myself for his tirade but he lets out a few short chuckles  
"Kept that close to your chest sweetheart" he said "that'll be useful in the arena" he finished and tucked back into his breakfast but anger boiled inside me explosively. I had no chance of winning! And he mocks me by saying that?!  
I think Annabella can sense the tension in the room because she manages to cram the last of her breakfast in her mouth and announces she wants to go down early and she'll leave us to it. How she can inhale food at such a pace and all but run from the room and still look like an elegant fairy will never cease to amaze me. I wait for her to leave before I start my tirade, if she's made it perfectly clear she doesn't want to be here when it starts the least I can do is give her chance to leave.  
"I have no chance! No chance at all! Especially against Tax! He's a trainer, Haymitch. I think it might even be in his job description to be able to win a games. I am not going to beat him by pirouetting my way out of there!" I explode at him startling the whole table to silence. You could almost hear the dust orbiting around the room. "Think about Rue-" he starts to retort but I cut him off "acrobatics and gymnastics are different! I can't do acrobatics, I've never trained in it so if that's what you're thinking then stop it!"  
"I don't care if you can do acro-whatever or not! You're right, the person who can do the prettiest double back flip isn't gonna come out of that place alive, it's the person who's fast, smart, strong and knows their own bodies, sound like anyone you know?"

I slump back down into my seat defeated, stuffed to bursting and proven wrong. Katniss breaks the awkward silence with the only thing in the world that could make it more awkward then it already is  
"You and Haymitch need to play the lovers card. I know you're gonna hate it and I did but you need the support and everyone's a sucker for a good love story"

Way to go Katniss. I didn't even know someone could put their foot that far into their mouth. Haymitch looks at me and I look at him. He shrugs. I stay silent. She's right and we both know it. What I feel and what he feels and how we feel about each other is nobodies business but our own and I don't want it plastered across every television screen in Panem but if I want to get back to him I might not have a choice... I nod, the tiniest movement of my head that feels so much like betrayal. He nods.  
"Right. I'm really sorry in advance but you need to take her down to training and make a big fuss about how much you love each other. At least in some ways it might be true. Someday" Katniss tells us and I have no argument left for her or Haymitch or anyone else that I could shout at over this. I rise soundlessly and we intertwine out hands as we head to the elevator.

The trip to the elevator is silent but when the door closes he pulls me into a warm embrace that I sink into happily. "I'm so sorry princess" he whispers into my hair and I can't stop the lone tear which trickles out of my eye, I'm sure he feels it seep through his shirt because his arms tighten around me as we descend. He pulls me away from him abruptly and starts speaking very low and very fast  
"Work on your aim, bows and arrows, knives, spears, axes, whatever you can get your hands on, if you show the game makers you're worth a bow and arrow they'll give you one and with Tax in the mix they'll only put in one." He doesn't have to explain for me to know what he's saying. Get the bow and arrow before Tax or you don't stand a chance. "Under no circumstances show them you're skills in dancing and gymnastics, hand to hand combat is just like a dance and we can work on that in the penthouse, use this time to learn something new. And don't forget" he slows down now, I expect some piece of advice, like a copy of the instruction book to winning the games but he caresses my cheek and all I can think is how much I love it when he does that "I love you" he whispers right in my ear. I understand, he's telling me now so I know he felt like this before all that is still to come. "As I love you" I reply instantaneously. This moment should have been special, it shouldn't have been forced out before it needed to be, hurried and unromantic in a lift but this is what we have so we work with what we've got. He intertwines his fingers with mine again and it makes me feel a little calmer The sharp ding of the lift informs us that we've reached our destination, we are the last people here and we have to work this to our advantage, with our joined hands we walk towards the large training room, eyes bright, chins up, look confident. Just a little show of more than friendly affection now and then ham it up at lunchtime; I walk close to him, our joined hands brushing between our thighs and all eyes are on us. He leans down and presses a chaste kiss to my lips, it's nothing, a peck, a goodbye kiss but my body reacts anyway and I can feel desire fizzing in my stomach. Everyone was talking amongst themselves but with the kiss everything has fallen silent. I even hear a sigh from someone, I think it's a member of district 8's old prep team. He ghosts the back of his finger along my cheek again. I really really love it when he does that. And then he's gone, leaving me with weakened knees and armed with what little advice he could give me in the time we had left. Time that seems numbered now, ticking down to zero and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Hope you enjoyed! Please review  
MeganEliabethh xx


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I'm so sorry I haven't updated in ages, life's just got in the way with annoying mock exams and such like! I also don't particularly like this chapter and I've been trying to find a way to fix but I hope you enjoy this chapter and as always thank you to all my reviewers, followers and favourites, you are my sun, moon and stars xx

Effie POV

After Haymitch leaves pandemonium breaks out, it seems like everyone wants to ask me what's going on but I brush them off and point to the instructor, if I make them wait the suspense will build and by lunch everyone will be watching us like hawks. I try my hardest not to resent this but how can I not? Everyone's staring at me like some sort if prized animal and I'm supposed to offer my and Haymitch's relationship up for their entertainment. I had never condoned this; being an escort was never my choice. I push my resentful thoughts to the side and try my hardest to listen to the instructor who is basically telling us not to mess around, not to fight any if the other tributes and not to underestimate the survival skills stations. Katniss could teach me anything I wanted about survival skills, Peeta disguise, Haymitch said he'd train me in hand to hand combat so I was left with strength and offensive skills. Time to start throwing axes.

Tax has as good as taken over the archery station but I still go over there anyway, he's hitting everything which is both unsurprising and worrying. The bow feels wrong and foreign in my grasp. Something this deadly should never be in the hands of someone as inexperienced and unready as me but I still raise it level and pull the string back as I have seen Katniss do a million times and let it go with a twang. It flys off far to the left completely missing my target, the string has also glanced down my arm at high speed, the skin has been pulled completely off in some places and a large, deep, purple bruise is already starting to form. I wince and Tax laughs at me.  
"Don't push you're back arm out a much" he suggests kindly "its called an archers kiss" he says, gesturing at my arm; I ignore him. If he wasn't so nice he'd be much easier to hate. I think of how Katniss does this, trying my hardest to imitate her. Feet wide, steadying me, arm pulled back in an elegant yet acute angle, not pushed out to far as my stinging left inner forearm is telling me. She always looks so focused whoever she shoots so I make the rest of the world melt away. Push the shouts of the other tributes and the metallic twang of metal hitting metal to the back of my mind. Ignore the sharp, bitter smell of industrial cleaner, try and forget where I am and block out the bland grey of the room and it's inhabitants. Just me and the bow and the target. I feel like how I used to when I was trying to master a technique that took a lot of skill and balance in dance and gymnastics. It was all the same really; it's just this form of gymnastics could kill someone. I load another arrow and raise it up, pulling the string back towards my face and centring the arrow down on the forehead of the man shaped target. Deep breath. In out. Centre myself. My fingers curl backwards, letting the string bounce from their grasp and the arrow shoots towards the target, not finding purchase in the cross hairs of the head target but it hits with a satisfying thwack in the neck. Not the kill shot I wanted but a kill shot all the same. I let out a sigh and smile. This might take time but its doable. Tax gives me a sidelong glare and shoots off 4 arrows in quick succession landing them in various kill shot zones. Heart. Neck. Forehead. Eye. It's not good manners to intimidate or boast but I let it slide. He can stand here all day showing off something that he's good at, that's fine with me. I'm here to learn. I load another arrow, readying myself for a long day.

When lunchtime comes around my archers kiss has stopped bleeding but it has gone a worrying shade of dark purple and it throbs a little every time I move it which has been somewhat irritating with a morning of shooting practice. When I walk into the lunch room I am greeted by cameras. This is new, I don't remember footage if the tributes at lunch. Then I see Haymitch standing there looking unhappy and irritated and I know exactly why they're here and I am so annoyed but I must play my part. Marching forewords happily I throw my arms around his neck with a smile. I thought it would be awkward and wrong in front of all the cameras but the second his arms wrapped around my waist I'm taken back to my room, when he cleaned my cuts and let me kiss him and without warning I forget all about the competition with Tax, the fact I'm probably going to be dead in a few weeks and let myself fall into his arms.  
"Afternoon princess" he mumbles into my hair in that deep raspy voice, he doesn't even smell like liquor and its so right in that moment that its hard to believe that anything in the world could ever be wrong. We stand there mumbling a few words to each other while I rest my head on his chest but we shift slightly and it tugs on the skin of my left wrist and I can't help but wince. He notices; of course he notices. He lifts it up and winces too  
"What did you do sweetheart? Decide to go at it with a knife?" He jibes  
"It's called an archers kiss" I inform him "my back arm was pushed out too far so the bow string went down my arm"  
"Okay- get me a bandage" He commanded at a poor young avox who looks startled  
"Manners" I chastise him quickly, without thinking and he rolls his eyes  
"May you get me a bandage, gauze and healing cream please" he repeats, putting particular emphasis on the please, it makes me smile and the feeling of happiness and contentment has become so foreign in the last few days that it shocks me. He smiles back at me and I desperately want him to caress my cheek again but he doesn't and I can hardly ask him so I snuggle back into his arms and we stay that way until the avox comes back. I really hate these cameras.

When a first aid kit is handed to Haymitch he pulls me over to a table, linking his fingers through mine and a shot of electricity powers through my veins. The effect he has on me is worrying but I wouldn't change it for the world. His fingers are tender and sure as they wipe the cream over the affected area and places a gauze over it and secure that to me with a bandage. My heart is beating so hard I'm surprised nobody can hear it.  
"Why do I feel like I spend all my time tending to wounds that you inflict upon yourself?" He teases lightly, quietly. They will just adjust the volume if we aren't talking loud enough but he wants it known that we don't want this, I can tell.  
"I could get someone else to do it" I threaten flirtatiously, I think he quite likes looking after me, secretly.  
"No." He says quickly and I smile, he know he's been played so he tacks "I don't trust them" onto the end to make himself sound more in control  
"Yeah, doctors are really hard to trust aren't they?" I'm pushing him, I know this but this is our game, I push, he pushes it's how we work and to some people it's odd but to us it's never been any different  
"Shut up" he growls, low in his throat, I breath in to retort with a witty comeback but he must notice and silences me with a kiss that takes my breath away. My mind goes blank, every single nerve ending is hyper aware, liquid desire rushes around my veins and my heart takes off at a mile a minute. He pulls away after a second and I feel as if I've lost something important; kisses should not be this good. He gets up and returns with another heaping plate of food and Annabella who is holding an equally heaping portion. I'm still quite full from breakfast but I tuck into the soup and bread regardless, merely thankful that he didn't choose as heavy an option as he could have like meat or rice.  
"Hey kiddo" I greet Annabella with a smile, she grins back at me steals a small piece of bread from the massive hunk of crust loaf Haymitch had set on the table, I laugh and steal a piece of equal portion from her piece and Haymitch rolls his eyes. I startle slightly as Katniss and Peeta sit I'm the remaining two seats at the table with their own food and I relax fully, not relishing how tightly wound I had been and let the knot of tension in my stomach subside.  
"There's been a meeting" Katniss begins but Peeta cuts her off, enquiring about my arm, I begin to tell them what happened but the second I say the words archers kiss Katniss winces and says "I know" and we both smile at each other, I'm glad to see her smile for a change, she has been ever so sad since Prim and I think this must be the first time I've seen her smile since it happened. I am drawn from my thoughts by her speaking  
"At the meeting they decided the training would lay five days including the private sessions because none of you have any special skills really, the parade was cancelled in memory of Cinna and Portia" she informs me and I see the pain in her eyes when she says her deceased friends names, she trails off to silence and begins eating, I join them and dip some of the bread in my soup, the taste of tomato invades my mouth with a slight hint of spice and basil, it's delicious so I tuck in heartily, ignoring the fact that my stomach is already full. We chat and tease, I flirt with Haymitch, aware of the cameras and time slips away from me. Lunch is over all too soon, time to go and train with the 23 people I must kill before I can be with the person I love. I try not to be too resentful as Haymitch kisses me goodbye and I am passed around, embracing all my friends before they leave.  
"Come on kid, the day's not over yet" I throw over my shoulder as I saunter back to the archery station. I'm doing okay but I need to get this down.

I hate it but what can you do? Merry Christmas and a happy new year to all who celebrate it :D please review  
MeganElixabethh xx


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